


The Pancake Conspiracy

by curiousair



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: 1990s, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Choking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dialogue Heavy, Los Angeles, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Rimming, Smut, Tasteless Jokes, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiousair/pseuds/curiousair
Summary: Eddie eyes the stack of pancakes on the table and silently reevaluates his life choices. Sure, he’s been in worse situations, but a late night diner date preceding a one night stand might just take the cake for most odd.“When you said you were taking me somewhere nice, this isn’t what I had in mind.”Richie unfolds a napkin and actuallytucks it into his fucking shirt.“This place has the best pancakes in town.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 26
Kudos: 294





	The Pancake Conspiracy

The mesh shirt was a bad idea, but fuck does it look good. Eddie digs out a melting piece of ice from his glass and rubs it on his chafed nipples and irritated piercings. They peak and harden immediately, the silver rings cool against his skin.

Stan says something that can't be heard over the music, but Eddie is positive it's something along the lines of 'tramp' or 'skank.'

Bev leans in close, smacking her lips against Eddie's ear. "He says you look like a whore."

"So?" Eddie says, and sucks down the rest of his watered down drink. "Didn't what’s-his-face end up on Geraldo for dressing like some kind of fucking circus whore?"

Mike removes his mouth from where it's been firmly attached to Bill's all night. "Twice."

"And being insanely high all the time," Bev adds.

"That's New York though," Stan says, and doesn't elaborate any further. 

"This is downright vanilla compared to him and his butt buddies," Eddie says, flicking his nipples through the purple mesh. "Fuck, I could become a nun."

"A little late for that," Stan murmurs, and mimes having a cock in his mouth.

"Didn't he kill a guy?" Bev asks. "Like, he's in prison right now."

"Who?" Eddie asks, already forgetting.

"Club kid-"

"Oh, the circus freak whore in New York?"

Bill speaks up, leaning over the table to dominate the conversation. "Actually-"

Stan groans. "Oh, here we fucking go. Let it go Bill. It was murder, cold blooded."

"I have a cousin who has a girlfriend who lives in Jersey but always parties in New York and she said-"

Ben comes back from the bar, holding three shot glasses in each hand. "I'm gonna fucking end my life if I hear this story again."

Taking one for the team, Mike claps both his giant hands on either side of Bill's face and kisses him. It shuts him up immediately, and the group literally claps. Mike is a hero.

"Bartender was checking you out," Ben says, and tucks Eddie's hair back behind his ear because he's a doll.

Eddie looks. "Which one? Four eyes or pink hair?"

"Four eyes," Ben says. "He asked about you. Referred to you as 'slutty nipple piercings.'"

Eddie turns in his seat, watching the tall, broad man work the bar. His messy, outgrown hair says grunge but everything else says punk band reject. He's wearing a dirty white t-shirt with a ripped collar, a chain link necklace with a padlock hanging from it, and leather wrist cuffs. Ugly tattoos up one arm and thick, black framed glasses complete the lazy excuse for a look. 

"Hot," Eddie says. "Bet his dick is big."

“Ask him,” Ben says simply.

“He looks like my ex,” Mike says.

“He looks like my ex too,” Bill says.

“Do you guys have the same ex?” Stan asks.

Mike and Bill look at each other and say, simultaneously: “Kevin?”

“Oh, this is rich,” Stan says. 

Bev slides a shot over to Eddie, “Bet you can’t get him to fuck you before the night is over. Fifty bucks.” 

Eddie takes the shot. “Pssh. Easy.”

There's one seat at the bar, squeezed between two dudes who are trying to get pink haired dude's attention. Eddie waves four-eyes over and orders a double of tequila.

Four-eyes finishes up a red, fruity drink and pours Eddie's shot, staying put after placing it gingerly in front of him.

“What’s your name?” Eddie asks.

"Richie," he answers, crossing his arms. "What’s yours?” 

“Eddie.” Eddie slams the shot and wipes his mouth. “Do you want to fuck me, Richie?”

Richie raises a brow. “Is that your opening line?”

“Yeah.”

“Start over.”

Eddie blinks. “Huh?”

“Walk away, come back, and start over.”

Eddie slips off the barstool and walks away. Bev gives him a questioning look and he shrugs, because apparently he’s willing to jump through hoops to get fucked tonight— and to win a bet—, then hooks back around to return to his seat. “Hi, I’m Eddie. Would you like to put your dick in my ass tonight?”

“One more time.” Richie holds up a single finger and smirks. “And make it nice.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, walks a quick circle around his seat, and sits back down. He clears his throat, and says as clearly and plainly as possible: “Hi, I’m Eddie. I noticed you across the room and I couldn’t help but notice your giant fucking hands and I wondered if your dick was as big. If so, I would like to spend the night with you fucking me until I can’t walk. Pretty please.”

Richie nods, unfazed by Eddie’s boldness. “Huh, okay.”

“Nice enough?”

“Let me buy you dinner first.”

Eddie grimaces, already pushing himself out of his seat. “No thanks.”

Richie slaps his giant fucking hands on top of Eddie’s and leans in close. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.”

The bathroom is just a room with one of those disgusting steel trough urinals filled with ice and a single stall with a missing door. Eddie ignores the couple making out in the corner and stands near the sink, tapping his foot to a muffled bassline. Richie steps into the restroom, acknowledges the kissing couple with a wave, and pulls Eddie into the door-less stall by the hand. 

Without so much as a greeting, he situates himself so his back is to the restroom and begins to unzip his jeans.

Though Eddie would never suck dick in a public restroom (without a stall door, anyway) his mouth waters in anticipation. “I appreciate your excitement, and I’d truly be honored to get you off, but I’m not blowing you here.” 

Richie raises an eyebrow at him, and pulls his zipper the rest of the way down. “Presumptuous. If I wanted you to blow me, I’d ask before whipping it out.” 

“Then what are you doing?” 

“I’m showing you,” Richie says, putting a hand down the front of his boxers, “why you should go to dinner with me.” 

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Eddie says, literally clutching his chest at the sight before him. “Fuck _me._ ”

“Only if you let me buy you dinner.”

It’s an extremely convincing argument. About eight inches of it, surrounded by thick, dark pubes, rock hard, cut, and adorned with a small, silver hoop pierced through the head and exiting through the underside of his beautiful, ginormous dick.

“I would do anything to get your dick in my mouth.”

“Great.” Richie grins and tucks his dick back into his jeans. It’s barely visible under the denim, and Eddie convinced this man is magic. “It’s a date then.”

Eddie nods, recalling the last time he deep-throated a cock this big. He might have thrown up and cried a little bit, but he’s not a fucking quitter. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Tonight,” Richie says.

Eddie blinks up at him, still a little thrown by this entire interaction. “Yeah, okay. What fucking time is it anyway?”

Richie shrugs. “I don’t know, man. I don’t wear a fucking watch.”

“Neither do I.” Eddie motions to his outfit, as if it explains this irresponsible decision. His jeans don’t even have space for a wallet— he’s been carrying around his ID and a stack of bills in his front pocket all night. Why on earth would he fuck up his aesthetic with a wallet chain or a clunky _watch_? Disgusting.

“Well, my shift is over in like thirty minutes. Meet me outside then,” Richie says, and wiggles his eyebrows over the rim of his glasses. “I’ll take you somewhere nice, then I’ll fuck you silly. That sound good?”

“Sounds great.” 

“Great,” Richie echoes and grabs Eddie by the back of the neck. He crushes their lips together and works his tongue inside Eddie’s mouth, flicking it against his piercing. He pulls off with an obscene smack and cups Eddie’s jaw, forcing it open, then sticks two gigantic fucking fingers into Eddie’s mouth to touch his tongue ring. “I like that, by the way.”

Eddie bites down, hard, and Richie winces. 

Grinning, he snatches his hand away. “I like that too. Keep it up.”

“Fucker.” Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves past him. “Dinner better be worth it.”

Richie rushes to open the bathroom door for Eddie, motioning forward in an ‘after you’ sort of way. “It will be. Cross my heart.”

  
  


“He’s taking me to dinner and he promised to ‘fuck me silly.’ You owe me fifty bucks,” Eddie says to Bev, when he gets back to his table. Bill and Mike have gone off to fuck in private, instead of dry humping in front of everyone, and Ben is engrossed in a conversation about the judicial system with Stan, who looks predictably bored by it. 

“Not yet,” Bev says, licking the rim of her glass. “I need proof.”

“Proof? What the fuck do you want?” Eddie asks, and steals a sip from Ben’s drink. “Do you want me to smuggle the used rubber in my pocket and bring it back to you?”

Bev throws her head back and laughs wildly, then looks at him. “I don’t know, maybe!”

Stan butts in, suddenly interested in the conversation. “If you can get Eddie Kaspbrak to carry a condom filled with someone’s else’s ejaculate in his pocket, I’ll pay _you._ ”

“Fuck both of you, I’m not doing that,” Eddie says, and finishes Ben’s drink.

“Dude, if you wanted more drinks, you could have asked. Damn,” Ben says. He stands up and heads back to the bar, muttering to himself as he goes. Eddie’s eyes follow him, and land on Richie behind the bar. 

Richie winks at him, because apparently he’s that kind of guy.

“He’s so fucking cheesy, I think I hate him,” Eddie groans. “I can’t wait for him to split me open.”

Stan slaps a hand on the table and jumps out of his seat. “Alright, goodnight!” 

“Goodnight!” Bev and Eddie sing in unison.

“You know,” Bev calls after him, “It wouldn’t hurt to get your dick wet every now and then!”

Stan waves his middle finger at her as he exits the bar.

  
  


It’s warm outside, the late night air providing little relief from the day’s blistering heat. Richie stands near a dumpster on the side of the bar, smoking a cigarette.

“Gross,” Eddie says, then plucks the cigarette from Richie’s fingers and takes a puff. He stamps the cigarette out with the toe of his boot and asks, “Alright, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see. Cab’s almost here.” Richie crosses his big, hairy arms and leans against the brick wall, dragging his gaze over Eddie’s body. There's a glare from the overhead streetlights on his glasses, but Eddie can see his eyes darken.

“What?” Eddie asks, though he has a pretty decent idea what Richie is thinking. 

“Don’t do that,” Richie scoffs. “You’re fucking hot. You know you’re hot.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eddie says. “Gonna do something about it, or you just gonna stare like a creep?”

Richie jerks his head to the side. “Come here.”

Eddie looks at the foot of space between them. “I am here.”

“Closer,” Richie says, grinning when Eddie follows instructions. He uncrosses his arms and grabs Eddie’s ass, a single cheek filling his hand perfectly, then slots a leg between Eddie’s to press against his rapidly swelling dick. Richie holds him there and kisses him until he’s rutting against Richie’s thigh, until it feels like he’s going to fucking explode, until it feels like his brain is going to melt and leak out of his ears.

Then, too soon, he shoves Eddie back and grabs his hand. “Cab’s here.” Eddie follows him to the curb, tripping over his feet.

  
  


Eddie eyes the stack of pancakes on the table and silently reevaluates his life choices. Sure, he’s been in worse situations, but a late night diner date preceding a one night stand might just take the cake for most odd.

“When you said you were taking me somewhere nice, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Richie unfolds a napkin and actually _tucks it into his fucking shirt_. “This place has the best pancakes in town.”

“Bullshit.” Eddie waves him off. “No place has the best _anything_ in town. Everyone likes to say that and people like you convince yourself it’s true. Also, dude, it’s _pancakes_. Not that hard to fuck up.”

Richie stabs his fork into the stack of pancakes and holds up a bite to Eddie’s lips. “Try it.”

“Yeah, this is exactly what I want to eat before I take eight inches of cock up my rectum.”

“Nine,” Richie corrects and shoves the bite into Eddie’s mouth.

“Right,” Eddie amends, chewing the overly sweet and buttery pancakes. “Nine.”

“It’s a point of pride.” Richie takes a big bite and talks with his mouth full. “That inch matters.”

Eddie slides the plate aside when Richie offers more and takes a sip of water instead. “So, Mr. Nine Inches...how many people have asked if you wanted to get into porn?”

“Oh, no, I’ve already done porn,” Richie says breezily. “Guy came up to me at a party in the valley, because no shit, everyone in the valley does porn now.” He shakes his head as if to say, ‘but I digress,’ and takes another bite of his pancakes. “We flirted, he gave me an enthusiastic handjob on the couch in front of like ten other people, then gave me his card instead of letting me come. Anyway, blue balls aside, I called him and we met a few times, he let me fuck him, yada yada. Fast foward a few weeks and I’m fucking on a gazebo while a camera zooms in on my balls. Not my thing, it turns out. But, check your local video store in a few months for my first and only appearance in the ‘Ass Bandits’ series.” 

“Amazing.” Eddie picks up a fork and takes another bite of Richie’s pancakes, which delights Richie, if his childish giggle is anything to go by. “You’re obviously not a traditional kind of guy, which makes me wonder why you insisted on taking me out. Is it like a moral thing… or like a Pretty Woman thing, what is this?”

“It’s an ‘I like you’ thing.” 

“Alright dude, you don’t have to feed me lines.” Eddie swirls his tongue around his straw. “I’d fuck you regardless.”

“Fine.” Richie clears his throat, pulls the napkin off his shirt and slides his plate aside to make room for his elbows. “How tight is your asshole?” 

Eddie chokes on his water. “Excuse me?” 

“Your asshole,” Richie repeats, resting his chin on his knuckles. “How tight is it? Tell me.” 

“It’s an asshole,” Eddie says blandly. “They’re all pretty much the same.” 

Richie shakes his head and makes a fist, placing a finger to the point where his fingers curl into his palm. Then, he wiggles the finger inside the tight clutch. “How much would it take for me to get inside you?” 

“Not much if you get me wet first.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder. “I’m easy.”

“So, you’re a slut?” 

“Basically, yeah,” Eddie answers, because he’s getting antsy. Also, it’s the truth.

“Cool, so if I put my tongue in your asshole-” Richie flicks his tongue at his fist and prods at the tight hole. Once, then twice before dropping his hands to the table. “That would be cool?” 

Eddie pauses. Yeah, he’s an antsy slut, but he has _some_ reservations. “Do you really wanna put your tongue in a stranger's asshole?” 

“I’ve done worse.” 

“I bet you have.” 

Richie leans forward barrels on, as if Eddie hadn’t said anything at all. “Are you tight like a virgin?” 

Eddie huffs a laugh through his nose. “If you’re trying to dirty talk me, you’re awful at it.” 

“C’mon, Eddie,” Richie groans, but there’s a playful smile in his eyes, “answer the question.” 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” Eddie says, because he’s a little shit. He has a feeling Richie likes that.

“Answer the question, Eddie,” Richie presses on, his grin growing wider. 

“You know what I think?” Eddie glances at the booths around them and wraps his hand around Richie’s fingers, tightening his grip before stroking his hand up and down. “You’ll have to get three of your fingers in me first. Because your dick is so big it just might feel like the first time ever taking one.” 

“God, you really know how to stroke a guy’s ego, don’t you?” Richie licks his lips and doesn’t even bother lowering his voice when he announces: “I’m so fucking hard right now.” 

And Eddie, not missing a beat, says: “Let me see.” 

Richie scoots over in his seat, making room. “Come over here.” 

Eddie comes around the table and slides into the seat, watching with amusement as Richie takes his dick out of his jeans for the second time tonight. It’s just as exciting as the first time, if not more. Because this time, he gets to _touch_. Oh, boy.

“Small hands,” Richie mutters, leaning back to let Eddie touch him. “Like a woman’s hands.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie says, with no heat behind it. He’s conspiring. How is he going to fit this entire fucking thing in his in his mouth? Not to mention his poor, shy asshole, which typically takes three shots of whiskey and a good hour before relaxing completely. The more important question, Eddie decides, is how sore is he willing to be tomorrow morning?

Richie bucks into Eddie’s hand, bumping his piercing against Eddie's thumb. “Don’t know if it’ll even wrap all the way around.” 

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m leaving.” 

“Liar,” Richie says, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Or, was it a lie when you called yourself a slut like two minutes ago?” 

Eddie slips his hand lower and squeezes Richie’s balls, a little too hard for it to be sexy. Still, Richie hisses and whimpers, whiteknuckling the edge of the table. “Joke’s on you,” he says breathlessly, “I like that shit.” 

“Figures,” Eddie responds, sliding his hand through the precum beading at the head of Richie’s dick. 

Richie swallows, giving Eddie this ridiculous puppy-eyed pout. “Do it again?” 

“You like pain?” Eddie drags his nails up the underside of Richie’s dick, a thrill running hot up his spine. “You want me to crush your dick and balls in my hand until you don’t know whether to come or cry?” 

Richie nods eagerly, and has to bite down on his lip to suppress his shout when Eddie twists Richie’s balls in his hand. He jumps and twitches, letting out a few incoherent curses. “Holy shit...yes, yes. _Fuck_.”

“You’re a bigger slut than I am,” Eddie says and though it pains both of them, he takes his hand away from Richie's dick.

“Maybe.” Richie takes a deep breath and situates his hard dick back into his boxers and jeans. “Why don’t we test that theory?”

  
  


Inside Richie’s tiny one bedroom apartment on the east side of town, Eddie retreats to the restroom and takes off his jeans. He fixes his hair in the mirror, as futile as the effort is with it being sweated out and dried in its naturally fluffy state, then surveys the sink.

He puts one knee on the counter to test the position and pauses, pondering the best way to do this. He’s been dancing all night, and his balls are practically glued to his thigh with sweat. He may be a slut, but he’s not a sloppy one. 

“Alright, fuck it, that works,” he mutters and takes his knees off the counter to step out of his briefs and helps himself to a hand towel on the rack that looks like it’s seen better days. He wets it and as he’s propping his knee back up on the counter, there’s a knock at the door. 

“I’m giving myself a whore’s bath, do you mind?” 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Richie says. “Look under the sink.” 

“What-” Eddie opens the door under the sink and there, lined up neatly next to the toilet paper is a row of douchebags and little rubber bulbs with nozzles attached to them. “Um. I don’t exactly need an enema right now, dude.” 

“Just in case.” 

“Aren’t you prepared.” Eddie closes the cabinet and continues his whore's bath.

“I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re a gigolo." 

“Hey, I don’t mind a little ass sweat. This is for your peace of mind, princess.” 

“Princess? Fuck you.” Eddie rinses the towel, wrings it out, and glances around the bathroom for a hamper. There isn't one, which isn't surprising. "Hey, I just wiped my ass with one of your towels, where do you want me to put it?"

"Leave it in the sink," Richie says, and adds: “No other guy has been this squeamish about me licking their asshole.”

Eddie drops the towel in the sink, going against every ounce of decency he has. Which isn't all that much. “Ew. And who said I was squeamish?"

A laugh comes through the door. "It's just ass sweat. I would have eaten you out in the diner restroom if you had asked."

Eddie cringes and pulls his clothes back on, even though they'll likely be off again in the next few minutes, if Richie is doing something right. "Hey, listen— do you want to fuck or not because my dick is actually withdrawing into my body.” 

“Don’t need your dick, just your holes.” 

“Please, man, you’re killing me.” Eddie swings the door open and Richie is leaning against the adjacent wall, grinning. 

“Orifices?” 

“Ew, shut the fuck up and let me get you in my mouth.”

Richie hums and sucks his teeth. “That isn’t very princess-like of you.”

“I want to choke on your cock," Eddie says as he drops to his knees. "I'm serious. Like, I want to feel like I might actually die.”

“Wait, wait." Richie sticks his hands under Eddie's armpits, picks him up, and deposits him near the coffee table. He pushes Eddie back down to his knees, drops his jeans and boxers, letting his beautiful, ginormous dick spring free, and sits on the arm of the ratty sofa. "Okay, proceed."

Eddie gets a hand on him, stroking his thumb up the thick vein along the underside. "God, how do you get this hard this fast?"

Richie gets his hands in Eddie's hair. "It was all the talk about ass sweat."

"Yeah? That's disgusting," Eddie mutters, and proceeds to spit on Richie's dick. Before the word _'fuck'_ is even completely out of his mouth, Eddie clamps Richie's balls in a vice grip. He looks up at Richie from under his eyelashes, questioning, as if the throb of Richie's balls and the precum leaking over the silver hoop in his dick don't give away just how much he likes this.

Eddie sucks dick like a challenge, like someone dared him to do it. Like someone swore up and down he couldn't. And someone had, once. No one important, just some dipshit in high school who called Eddie a prude. To this day, Eddie sometimes finds himself in the middle of sucking a dick out of spite. Hate-sucking, if you will.

Richie nudges his dick against Eddie's lips and Eddie opens his mouth readily, working it in as far as he can take it. He digs his nails into Richie's trembling thighs, gags when it hits the back of his throat, and pulls off. There's spit stringing from his lip to the head of Richie's dick and Eddie, wiping his watery eyes, looks up at him and says: “I wanna use your cum as hair gel.” 

"You're a fucking sin," Richie breathes, then grabs Eddie by the ears and shoves back inside his mouth. Eddie's teeth scrape against the hard, wet skin and Richie gasps, pulling Eddie off. "Easy, easy."

Eddie smiles, ducks his head, and fits both of Richie's balls in his mouth, sucking gently and taking pride in the way Richie whimpers. He slicks the spit up Richie's length with his tongue, and takes him deep, and _deeper_ , finally into his throat until his nose is pressed firmly into the musky mess of Richie's pubes. Richie lets out a choked moan and Eddie pulls off again to catch his breath, making a show of swirling his tongue around the swollen head of Richie's dick. He squeezes Richie's balls again and tugs, and Richie jumps, yelping. His dick slaps against Eddie's tongue and when Eddie pulls back to laugh, he finds himself stuck. 

Richie looks down, blinking through his glasses, and chuckles. "Whoops."

Calmly, Eddie leans back and his tongue stays outstretched, the bell of his jewelry connected to the hoop on the tip of Richie's dick. There's a slight sting at Eddie's piercing site as he gently tugs, lifting the weight of Richie's big, hard cock with just his tongue. 

"Don't move," Richie says, far too amused by the situation. "This is hilarious no matter how many times it happens."

If Eddie's tongue ring weren't in danger of being yanked out of his mouth, he'd tell Richie to shut the fuck up.

Richie wraps a hand around his dick and shakes it. Eddie makes an indignant noise in response and Richie laughs again, places two fingers on Eddie's forehead, and nudges him back. "Ta-da," Richie sings, once Eddie's tongue is free. 

He pulls Eddie to his feet and kisses his open mouth. He's a messy kisser, scrubbing his tongue behind Eddie's teeth, the soft inside of his cheek, the ridged skin of the roof of his mouth. Eddie throws his arms over Richie's broad shoulders and lets Richie spin them around, sitting Eddie on the arm of the couch. His legs bracket Richie’s waist and he leans back to make space for Richie's lips on his neck. Richie kisses down Eddie's throat and lower even, licking Eddie's damp skin through the mesh shirt. He flicks the tip of his tongue over Eddie's nipples, sucking the piercings into his mouth, and palms Eddie's dick roughly through the denim. 

Their hands fumble to get Eddie's tight jeans and briefs off his hips and down his legs in one go. The clothes bunch around his ankles but Richie surges forward anyway, wrapping a giant hand around both their dicks.

"Enough foreplay," Eddie grunts, placing his hands flat on Richie's chest. "Want you to wreck me."

Richie bites down on Eddie's earlobe. He steps back and pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing more, but unfairly sexy, tacky tattoos and body hair. As he picks up a condom and a bottle of lube from the coffee table, he asks, "What happened to me fingering you and getting you wet, baby?"

Eddie gets his hands on Richie's shoulders and shoves him to his knees. "Not your baby."

"Okay," Richie says, with a devilish grin, " _princess._ "

Richie grabs Eddie by the hips and spins him around. Eddie presses his dick into the arm of the sofa and bends over, just as Richie starts to lick a long stripe over his exposed hole. He's eager and messy with this too, barely leaving enough time between each open-mouthed kiss before wiggling his tongue inside. Spit rolls down Eddie's thigh, cooling on his skin and Richie presses a thumb to his hole, just a tease before slipping a wet finger inside. Eddie sighs and relaxes around the single digit, begging for more until Richie has three fingers layered inside of him, curling and twisting.

In the rush to strip the rest of their clothes off, Richie snaps the elastic of Eddie's mesh shirt and mumbles into his mouth, "You are so fucking sexy," and turns him back around, leaving the shirt on.

The head of Richie's dick pressing at his rim makes him dizzy and they both groan when it breaches him, with Eddie taking deep breaths as Richie starts to move. It's simultaneously grounding and maddening, even Richie's warm, heavy hand on his belly makes him want to go apeshit. Richie places a kiss between Eddie's shoulder blades and rocks into him, coaxing a whine from Eddie's throat.

To distract from the initial discomfort, Eddie talks shit. “Holy fuck, you're huge. Oh my god, oh my god. I love your giant fucking dick stretching me out." It's pornographic and over the top, but goddammit, it's how he feels.

It takes ages for Richie to bottom out, slotting his hips right against Eddie's asscheeks, and by the time he starts pumping shallowly, Eddie is halfway to losing his mind.

"You can-" Eddie whines at the sudden, overwhelming sensation of Richie nestled right against his prostate. "Faster."

Richie does as he's told, speeding up his movements a little. The uneven thrusts become a smooth slide, in and out, lighting Eddie's nerve endings on fire. His skin tingles and his head goes all light and fuzzy, but still, it isn't enough to satiate him. He needs to be incoherent, on the verge of passing out, his knees weak and pulse racing, and he knows Richie can give that to him. 

“Harder," Eddie orders, around a moan. "You fuck like a bitch.” 

“Princess, like I fucking said,” Richie huffs, sliding his hands up Eddie’s back to grip his shoulders. He pulls out halfway and practically slams back in, their skin slapping together obscenely. “You want me to do all the work?” 

“Ah- _Exactly_ ,” Eddie hisses, glancing at him over his shoulder. “What’s the use of having a monster cock if you don’t know how to use it?” 

Richie snaps his hips, knocking an abrupt moan out of Eddie. “Shut the fuck up.”

Seeing stars, Eddie can’t stop the filth from falling out of his mouth. “I don’t take orders from guys with weak dick. Come on, bitch boy, give it to me. Make me cry.” 

When Richie has the bright idea to slap his hand over Eddie's mouth, Eddie bites down, tugging the skin of Richie's palm between his teeth. Richie snatches his hand away and grabs a fistful of Eddie's hair, yanking his head back to whisper in his ear. "Not your bitch." 

Panting, Eddie responds, "Never said you were mine."

Without pulling out, Richie clumsily repositions them— Eddie bends his knees and collapses onto the sofa cushions, bracing his hands on the wall for leverage as Richie uses the new angle to fuck the breath out of him. Richie drapes himself over Eddie's back, finally getting into a delicious, messy rhythm that has Eddie moaning brokenly, high in his throat. 

Somehow or another, they end up tumbling to the floor. Eddie falls to his forearms and Richie angles his ass up, thrusting back inside slowly before picking up the pace, burying himself all the way inside with each snap of his hips.

The rest of Eddie's body feels loose and secondary to the wonderful ache between his legs. He drops his head to the carpet and lets Richie stuff him full, loving every depraved second of it. He moans wantonly, his mouth dry and throat raw already. "Yeah, fuck, just like that. I want to feel you in my fucking stomach.” He gets a hand on his dick and starts to rock back on his knees, but Richie holds him steady.

“Be still and take it, princess," he says in a low, gravelly tone and slaps the side of Eddie's thigh. "You want me to make you cry? I can do that, but you don’t get to fuck me back.” 

He manhandles Eddie onto his back, giving his dick a few lazy strokes. There's sweat on his hairline, dripping down his nose where his glasses are slipping, and there's a wide smile stretched across his face, creating crinkles by his eyes. Eddie blinks up at him and loses his breath at how beautiful he looks. He's sexy as hell, but there's something a little goofy and playful about it that makes Eddie's skin hot in an entirely different way. 

All of these mushy thoughts leave Eddie's head when Richie hooks his legs over his shoulders, grips his hips, and sinks back in. In this position, it feels like he's being split in half in the best way possible. With each rough, long thrust, Richie literally pushes Eddie up along the scratchy carpet a few inches. It has the added effect of giving him rug burn on his elbows and shoulder blades, and as his head knocks against the leg of the coffee table over and over again with the relentless force of Richie fucking him, Eddie thinks: _This man might be a fucking sex god._

Laughing into a kiss, Richie opens Eddie's legs, folds him in half, spreads his cheeks with a strong grip, and fucks even deeper somehow, rocking into him like he has an endless amount of dick to give. His necklace dangles in front of Eddie's parted lips and Eddie flicks his tongue out to catch the padlock, tasting metal. Richie reaches around Eddie's thigh and fists his dick, stroking in time with his thrusts and Eddie is speechless, shaking like a leaf, scratching down Richie’s back, swearing that he breaks the skin a little. He can feel Richie in his chest, in his fucking throat, the heat builds and rises until he erupts, coming with a cry, spurting white into Richie's hand.

"Oh, fuck!" he shouts, shivering through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Richie grins at him, pauses for a second to lick Eddie’s cum off his palm, and _keeps fucking him_ , grinding in slow circles. It's too much all at once and Eddie sobs, suddenly feeling like he's made of porcelain, fragile enough to crack in two. “You’re gonna have to hurry up and come or you’ll fucking kill me.” 

Richie catches Eddie's lips in a kiss and whispers, “Choke me."

Eddie takes a shaky breath and blinks up at him through tears. "What?"

“Can’t come unless I’m being choked.” 

"Well," Eddie mutters, wrapping both hands around Richie's neck, applying a mild pressure. "If you insist." 

"Harder," Richie gasps. " _Harder_."

Eddie squeezes harder, his muscles straining, and Richie's face goes pink, spreading over his cheeks and up his forehead. He attempts to suck in a breath and goes still other than his hips twitching, and drool dribbles off his lower lip. Eddie grits his teeth against the sensation of Richie pushing him beyond his limits, then sucks Richie’s lip into his mouth, accepting the spit. Gasping for air, Richie's half-lidded, bright blue eyes flutter closed and he collapses onto Eddie's chest.

There's a brief, frightening moment in which Richie lies limply on top of Eddie, not even moving to pull out.

Eddie shakes his shoulder. "Are you alive?"

Richie remains still and Eddie, who doesn't do well with panic, rears his hand back and slaps Richie across the ass. 

When Richie grumbles under his breath, Eddie lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Get off of me, you're heavy as fuck."

"I want to live here," Richie mumbles into Eddie's neck and pumps his soft dick into Eddie's ass. He lifts his head, teary-eyed behind his glasses, and presses their lips together. It's languid and sweet, and Eddie melts into it, his dick twitching between them.

"Would love for you to fuck me again," Eddie says, his face burning at the suggestion alone, "but I can't feel my legs."

Richie kisses him again, a quick peck, and pulls out carefully to lie beside him.

Eddie looks at him, unable to successfully bite back his smile. Richie smiles back, brushing his fingertips along Eddie's jaw. It's too tender, too soft, but Eddie doesn't stop him. He turns his head and stares at the ceiling, letting Richie caress the heated skin of his neck and dip under the collar of the mesh shirt. 

"Let's call it a draw," Richie says, his voice hushed.

"Hmm?"

"I think we're equally slutty."

"Oh," Eddie says, with a soft laugh. "I guess we're perfect then."

Richie laughs too, and tweaks Eddie's nipple between two fingers. "Must be fate."

Eddie blushes and looks at him, suddenly remembering something. "Hey, can I use your phone?"

"Sure." Richie points vaguely at the end of the coffee table. "There it is."

"Can you-" Eddie motions to it, waving his hand. "Bring it here."

Richie kicks the table with his heel and the cordless phone falls to the floor, narrowly missing Eddie's ankle. Eddie uses his foot to slide the phone up closer to his hand and dials one of the three numbers he has memorized.

The line rings and rings and eventually the answering machine picks up, prompting Eddie to leave a message _because we're off living life!_

"Hey, Bev. Guess where I'm calling from?" Eddie sticks the phone in Richie's face. "Say something."

"Hey, Bev," Richie echoes, without missing a beat. "I fucked your friend until he cried."

"Anyway, you owe me fifty bucks bitch," Eddie says, and hangs up. He tosses the phone on the couch, rolls onto his side and asks, "Are you weird about guys spending the night?"

Richie rolls over to face him, dragging a hand through his hair. "Are you weird about fucking twice in one night, showering together, and getting more pancakes in the morning?"

Eddie surges forward and kisses him, catching more teeth than anything else and feeling Richie's laugh vibrate through his lips. Richie pulls him closer with a firm grip on his ass and says, right against his mouth, "Think if I make you come again your friend will pay you double? We'll split it."

"Shut the fuck up," Eddie mumbles and climbs on top of him, already dizzy with anticipation.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/curiousair), where I'm equally as unhinged as this story is.
> 
> (also, like don't try any of this at home.)


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